Swag Love, Swag Joy
by Emerald Embers
Summary: The night Sanderson Mansnoozie forgot to turn his swag off before bed (aka Everybody Loves Sandy, the fic).


Ever since the great Lunar cuddle-puddle of 1893, Sanderson Mansnoozie had been diligent about turning his swag off before going to bed. It wasn't that waking up covered in Guardians and moon-mice and lunar moths was unpleasant - in fact, it was very pleasant - it was that waking up covered in Guardians and moon-mice and lunar moths was inconvenient. He had work to do, they had work to do, and all in all setting everyone back a day in a non-leap year was disastrous for their schedules.

And so, Sanderson Mansnoozie would drink a glass of warm milk, brush his teeth until they squeaked, and check his swag was turned off before he went to bed whenever he needed to recharge from a hard month's dreaming.

Until one day he didn't.

.

"Hahahahaha," said Pitch as he climbed out from beneath an unsuspecting youngster's bed. Centuries of loneliness had left him a bit peculiar, and it did not occur to him that chuckling evilly to himself came across rather more sad than sinister these days.

Still, he tried. He was a trier.

Pitch loomed over the sleeping child, waiting for a dream to appear so that he might corrupt it, and felt quite put out when none came. He checked the child's alarm clock, then the stars outside just to be sure, then frowned. It was unlike the Sandman to be late.

It was then he noticed the smell - like black coffee, the smoldering embers of a summer barbecue, the warmth of a snuffed-out candle. He'd never smelled anything quite so enchanting before.

Pitch dipped into the shadows and demanded they take him to the source of the smell, glaring at the dark when it initially refused to obey.

When the dark released him, dropping him down from the ceiling of a literal sand-castle, Pitch knew why it had hesitated to let him travel there. The Sandman was powerful enough with the limited sands his cloud and clothing offered - an entire castle built from sand would be enough to render him damn near invincible.

A sensible villain would have left, but Pitch still needed to know the source of that bewitching smell, and followed his nose until he found it.

Some small, untainted part of Pitch said _Aww_ as he looked down at the strange little alien lying plump and round on a square but equally plump pillow.

The rest of Pitch said _Wait, what are you doing?_ as he sat down beside the Sandman, leaned over, lay his head upon the soft, warm belly of his greatest rival and inhaled his fantastic scent.

All of him shut up when one of the Sandman's chubby hands landed on his head and patted it idly.

_Hahahahaha_, Pitch thought, and didn't feel very evil at all.

.

As much as Jack had been known to mock the other Guardians for having schedules and deadlines, there was no denying he was the first to notice both Sandy and Pitch were missing - Sandy because Jack liked to have a good look at a few dreams once in a while, and Pitch because Jack had taken to pestering him once a month. Little did Jack know, Sanderson Mansnoozie's unexpected night of swag also happened to coincide with Pitch's time of the month.

Jack checked under beds and inside chimneys, searching the skies and alleyways for hints of either dream-weaver, and finally opted to land by the sea, carefully keeping his distance from the water as he searched for a seashell-warrior to interrogate.

Luck finally found him a hermit crab, who after much grumping about what was and wasn't Jack's business provided the latest location of Sandy's island.

Jack had only just glimpsed the spiralling gold sands when he was hit by the smell; fresh mint and sharp lemon, the snap of cracked black pepper and a swirl of raspberry. It was an impossible smell, cold and crisp as winter but indescribably delicious, and Jack wanted more.

If Jack had been less captivated by the smell, he might have been on the lookout for foul play. He might also have paid suitable attention to the person generally responsible for foul play in this universe when he found them next to Sandy, resting their head on Sandy's belly.

As it was, Jack was more interested in getting in on the action, and he wedged himself in next to Pitch, stealing Sandy's lap for himself.

Pitch started to protest, batting vaguely in Jack's direction, but was half-asleep enough that when Jack caught Pitch's arms and wrapped them around his own chest he didn't struggle against the forceful spooning.

.

_Chocolate chocolate chocolate chocolate chocolate chocolate chocolate chocolate,_ thought Bunnymund, sniffing the air.

"Chocolate?"

Bunnymund tapped the floor twice, dove down into the resulting tunnel, and didn't stop racing until he emerged at the source of the smell.

"There's no chocolate here," Bunnymund said, sounding less disgruntled than confused, before he flopped onto his side and wrapped an arm around Sandy's shoulders, pushing his nose into Sandy's upper arm and inhaling deeply. "Close enough."

.

Tooth fairies operated in groups, even if they sometimes spread out across cities to cover more ground; they generally avoided straying out of chirping range so that in the event of being cornered by pets or still-awake children they could assist one another.

As such, when one helper called out to Toothiana about "something shiny" before disappearing, she heard it, but was not immediately concerned. When two more called out the same thing before disappearing, she had to investigate.

Five fairies had disappeared by the time Toothiana found her way to the point where they had gone missing, and barely had the chance to warn her other helpers to stay away before she saw it.

Iridescent, sparkling, glowing - colourful beyond the spectrum human eyes could interpret and dazzlingly bright without hurting.

It couldn't do any harm to have one little look. Just a bit closer. Just to see where the colours were coming from.

Toothiana found her tiny helpers cuddled into the wild wisps of Sandy's hair, their hands clinging onto his locks and their eyes closed in blissful sleep, and maybe it was strange to rub her head against his before joining her helpers in sleep, but it wasn't her fault he was so damned pretty. Or that she caught the faintest whiff of jasmine on his sweet, sweet breath.

.

North and Nightlight surveyed the scene as best as they could without giving in to the urge to join the pile of Guardians, helpers, sea creatures, and a solitary no-good-very-bad-man. It had been over a century since Sandy last forgot to turn his swag off, but both Guardians remembered the last incident all too well. North had found clumps of moon-mice fur in his beard for weeks afterwards, and Nightlight had never quite got all the lunar moth dust out of his joints.

As the responsible adult amongst them, North pondered how best to wake the crowd without causing major shock or damage, and turned to his delicate little friend for advice before finding himself betrayed.

Nightlight's size-shifting capabilities were useful for finding a comfortable spot, and if that comfortable spot happened to require straddling Sandy's foot, he didn't seem to mind.

"Traitor," North grumbled.

_I can't help it,_ Nightlight flickered, rubbing his newly diminutive frame against Sandy's ankle. _He's so beautiful._

North surrendered, finding himself as comfortable a spot as he could, and admitted to himself that there still wasn't a smell on Earth to rival the cinnamon-sugar of Sandy's swag.

.

Sanderson Mansnoozie would have woken with a start if he'd had any room to start in. Feathers, fur, seashells and skin tickled almost every inch of him, and wriggling to try and get free only worsened the tickling.

_Well,_ Sanderson thought to himself. _Bugger._

Sanderson turned off his swag, freed his hands as best as he could, and willed the sands of his palace to lift him free from the cuddle-puddle. For the most part the sand succeeded, but the skinny figure clinging to his foot showed no signs of letting go anytime soon.

Sanderson didn't particularly mind. Nightlight made a charming ankle bracelet, and his weight could be easily supported by a mere handful of sand should he wake up.

Being a master of silence and stealth, it wasn't hard for Sanderson to escape his palace undetected. The moon shone brightly, and somewhat disapprovingly, but it wasn't as if Sanderson was entirely responsible for the inability of others to resist his swag. He had work to do, work that sometimes required he take time off to recharge, and he felt well-rested and ready to roll. There were children who required dreams, and Sanderson intended to supply them.

And, perhaps equally, he also intended to get as far away as possible from the fall out of Pitch waking up with his lips frozen to Jack's hair.


End file.
